


like scything

by akitania (spacehairdresser)



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Gen, Horror, Referenced suicide, Undead, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehairdresser/pseuds/akitania
Summary: A girl like Natasha Rostova will not stay dead for long.





	like scything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theladyscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/gifts).



Sonya rose early on the day she was to save Natasha again. Countess Bezukhova kept late hours, she knew, but it would be easier to find her in the morning.

Indeed, she was in the drawing room when Sonya visited, hair undone and not dressed for company, but smiling warmly. Gossip said that Pierre Bezukhov did not sleep at home any more, but the countess’s collarbones were bitten red. Sonya tried not to look.

“You’re dear Natalie’s cousin,” Bezkhova said without preamble. “I’m terribly grieved about what happened. For such a lovely girl to take her own life…”

Sonya folded her hands in her lap. “Marya Dmitrievna told me what it is you do, Countess Bezukhova,” she said. _A woman one should stay far away from._ “I have little money — I have always been dependent on the generosity of the Rostov family — but I hoped you could be of help.”

The countess’s teeth were very white when she smiled. “There’s no need to worry about the cost, dear. You are her blood, aren’t you?”

Sonya nodded.

“Blood is its own price, Sofia Alexandrovna. You will have your charming cousin back to you.”

 

Marya Dmitrievna did not look at her. She did not look at Natasha.

Sonya herself looked at Natasha only rarely, unable to become used to her greyed skin and clouded eyes. While Sonya packed her bags and Natasha’s too, Natasha sat on her bed and read over her letters. Pierre Bezukhov, who could refuse her nothing, had returned them to her in a ribbon-tied bundle.

Natasha wore the ribbon in her hair, her thick curls pulled to cover the spaces where clumps had fallen out.

It took time to depart, to inform Natasha’s parents that they were to leave Moscow and return to the countryside. With Marya Dmitrievna furious and Natasha silent, Sonya spent the days mostly in bed. She was cold almost constantly, and often faint. She had lost so much blood.

Eventually, though, affairs were settled. Sonya wrapped herself in fur and pulled her hat tight over her ears as she crossed the yard to the troika, but Natasha was dressed in nothing more than the dress she had worn to the opera those weeks ago. Bare arms and neck. When Sonya asked if she was cold, Natasha shook her head distantly. Her cheeks were not pink, even as the wind whipped around her face. She did not shiver. She did not walk toward the troika.

“Natasha! Natasha!” It was hard to move against the wind, the dizzying force of white, but Sonya chased her as best she could. “Where are you going?”

“Petersburg,” Natasha called without looking back. “I must go to Anatole, to Petersburg.”

Sonya slipped, falling heavily to her knees and only barely holding back a shriek of pain. Natasha kept walking. Sonya sobbed.

Natasha kept walking.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Ghost Q&A" by Anne Carson.


End file.
